Closure
by uber-tastic
Summary: “I just wanted to talk to you. You’re one of the only others I’ve met, you know.” Heavily implied Micaiah/Sothe, Ike/Soren friendship, ever so slight Micaiah/Soren friendship.


**Author's Note:** Ahh, first published Fire Emblem fan fic... and I'm heavily sleep deprived on a school night at 2:28 AM. I'm trying to make this play out like a base converation, taking place the night before the Part 4 Endgame happens.

Characters: main- Micaiah, Soren ; mentioned - Ike, Sothe, Gatrie, Nailah, Rafiel

Pairings: Heavily Implied Micaiah/Sothe, Ike/Soren friendship, light Micaiah/Soren friendship

**Disclaimer: **Fire Emblem and characters belong to Intelligent Systems, so... NOT MINE.

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"Soren, could I speak to you for awhile?" Micaiah's voice rang through the clear night. Ike and Soren had positioned themselves far away from the rest of the camp (where some sort of drinking contest had been going on), and they had seemed to be talking about unimportant things.

Soren looked to at the fellow sage, lingering on her eyes to determine whether Yune was talking, before turning to Ike for approval. Ike's eyes found hers and gave a polite, if stiff, nod. Soren turned from his companion to look at Micaiah again and rose from his seat. "Alright then."

The girl gestured with her hands, indicating that she wanted to talk with the wind sage alone. Soren turned back to Ike, who gave another stiff nod. The vanguard got up, patted his longtime friend on the shoulder, and said "Talk here; I should probably tell everyone to get ready for bed, anyway."

Micaiah took a seat on the log that Ike had just vacated. Soren hesitantly followed.

"What's the matter?" The phrase held none of the sincerity it would, had she been talking to one of her close friends.

"Nothing," Micaiah replied. "I just wanted to talk to you. You're one of the only others I've met, you know."

"Others?"

"Other Branded. Stefan's the only other I've met, and Yune was usually the one to speak with him," Micaiah explained. "I just want to know how the Brand has affected you."

"It hasn't, really." Soren's responses were curt and frustrating. Micaiah vaguely wondered if he always spoke like this or if she was a special case.

The Silver-Haired Maiden sighed. "You're not being very helpful, do you realize?"

"What exactly do you expect from me? A touching story of abuse that I may have experienced as a young child? Or how, despite my racial differences, I still found friendship?"

"No, I was hoping that you would, I don't know, be able to clear some things up for me? Maybe even provide some closure?"

A strained silence followed, and Micaiah couldn't help but feel like choosing to talk to Soren was a mistake.

"… You're a lot smarter than me, you know," she said after a short pause.

Soren was slightly taken aback at the statement. "I won't deny it, but why do you say so?"

"Ike knows, right? About the Brand?"

Soren nodded in response.

"But you didn't run, didn't even consider running, after you told him."

He shook his head slowly.

"That's why you're smarter than me. I…" She sighed dejectedly. "I ran. He found out, he had known for at least two years, but I ran anyway. I still can't figure out why…"

"By him, you mean Sothe?" Soren asked.

"Yes. We had been together for five years before I ran, five years before the Mad King's War, five years before…" she trailed off.

"Before?" the man next to her inquired. Micaiah wondered why he was so curious.

"Before he met you. Well, the Greil Mercenaries." The woman looked at the crowd surrounding the campfire. The man they spoke of was currently trying to keep a drunken Gatrie from insulting too many women with his blatant flirting. "I might not know what possessed me to run from him, but I'm glad I did."

Soren tore his own eyes from the humorous scene in the camp to look at his companion. "Really? Why is that?"

"Because, if I hadn't left, he never would have met you. And I never would have realized how much I need him."

"You're glad he met us? I was always under the impression you didn't particularly like us."

"His Ike-worship may be annoying, but he changed, grew up. I remember how he used to use 'sub-human' like any other Daein citizen, but now he hates the term as much a laguz would."

"And how do you feel about the word?"

"… I grew up thinking that if anyone deserved the term, it was me. The laguz were completely laguz, so why would they be below humans? Especially when someone like me, a half-breed, existed? By the time I had met Sothe, I had traveled enough to learn that laguz preferred to be called laguz, so it only furthered my belief that I was some kind of cursed filth."

"…" Soren was at a loss for words.

"I was naturally confused when he treated me like any other beorc, even after learning what I really was."

"… Did someone teach you that manner of thinking, or did you pick it up yourself?"

Micaiah laughed slightly humorlessly, still staring at their army's antics. "I taught myself to think like that, and Sothe taught me how to _not_ think like that. I suppose he was my Ike."

"What?" Soren asked incredulously, staring at her, confused.

"Well, he was to me like Ike is to you. He kept me from hating the world. He kept me sane, reminded me that I wasn't some kind of freak. Certainly Ike did the same for you, or else you wouldn't even bother being here, listening to my insecurities."

"Truth be told, I am curious a bit as to how a Branded in Daein was treated. And I can assure you that I'm only being compassionate so that you'll quell my curiosity." Micaiah thought she should have known there was a catch.

"Admittedly, it's easier to hide a Brand on my wrist than it is for you to hide one on your forehead. All I had to do was keep it covered and move around a lot. No one really had the opportunity to teach me to hate myself; I did have many teachers in my early childhood. But upon returning to Daein, I discovered how much my countrymen can care for each other, no matter the circumstances."

"… And I was thinking you were some kind of pampered princess compared to how I was raised." Soren's words had some kind of malice behind them, and they altogether lacked sympathy.

Micaiah sighed: she was so close to getting the mysterious tactician to open up to her. "Pampered? No. Loved? No more than you were. But I managed to find that one person to stick with. You have too. You can deny it all you want, but we're extremely similar."

Soren shook his head like he was trying to get an annoying bug to stop buzzing near his ear. He sighed. "Believe it or not, I used to be worse than this. You think I'm defensive now."

"I would like to know more about you, true. But it's hard to open up. You're probably the only other person, besides Sothe, I've told this much. I feel like we can relate, somehow."

A burst of laughter came from the center of the camp, attracting the attention of both sages. It appeared that some kind of explosion had occurred, causing the intoxicated to erupt into peals of laughter. It also seemed that Sothe's attempts to calm Gatrie had ultimately gotten the Whisper soaked in some kind of alcohol.

"We can relate." Soren's statement drew Micaiah back to their conversation. The leader of the Silver Army looked at her company, wary that he was simply trying to bait like earlier. "I'm not being duplicitous, either. I'm completely sincere here." He looked toward Micaiah, but he didn't really seem to be looking _at_ her, simply toward her.

"I'm glad you agree."

"You know, when I first saw you, I never imagined you were anything like me. I always saw you as some kind of mindless dog under the control of Ashnard's orphan. I never thought that we could share any similarity." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I knew, from the second I saw you, that you were Branded. Don't ask me how. I just felt something familiar about you.

"I didn't actually want to think that some Daein puppet could actually have some kind of power, could actually be humane. If you haven't noticed, I don't accept people easily." Soren let out a derisive bark of laughter. Micaiah couldn't find it her to laugh with him.

"You were the 'Silver-Haired Maiden,' a supposed miracle-worker. I didn't expect that the tales people talked of so much actually had some truth!" He laughed that same bitter laugh, before sobering completely. "From the second I saw you and knew you were Branded, I _had_ to set myself apart from you. I wouldn't allow someone who was sure to be like me to be so blinded, and I couldn't just personally talk some sense into you, so I came up with a list of ways we were unalike. It was the only way I could justify my own Brand."

Soren looked at her, truly _at_ her this time, with a saddened expression on his face. Micaiah understood at once that he never told anyone this.

"Do you," she began, "want to hear something I've never shared with anyone else?" She looked to him for consent. He nodded solemnly. "I desperately wanted to talk with you when I saw you on the battlefield, both times. You seemed like the answer to all my questions. Surely another Branded would have the answers to my questions of our race! In retrospect, I don't think any Branded can really explain what we're put through. Not even Stefan could answer my questions, I bet.

"Anyway, I would stay awake at night formulating questions I would ask you, if we ever met under peaceful conditions. I knew that would most likely never happen, but I needed answers, and you were my only hope. If Sothe knew this, he'd probably scold me for staying awake, when I should have been resting off my exhaustion. Yet, I just had to think of those questions: they were my only dream of getting an explanation.

"Now, talking to you here, I don't have the faintest idea of what I wanted to ask you anymore," Micaiah finished, shaking her head at her own silliness. The two comrades sat in a comfortable, companionable silence after her last words.

"SOREN!" Ike's desperate call caused the pair to break out of the bubble they had somehow stuck themselves in. Suddenly the noises from all over camp could be heard; they were no longer lost in a world that only they could reach.

"Soren! Get over here, we need your help!" Ike hollered again.

"Micaiah! There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" Sothe's voice carried over to where the two sat. He was still moist from the alcohol. "Nailah and Rafiel want to speak with you!" he yelled.

Micaiah nodded before pushing herself from the log and offering her hand to the other sage. Soren took it, almost hesitant about the contact.

"Thank you, Soren, for the time," the light sage said, bowing low in respect.

"It was no problem, Maide - Micaiah. In fact, I feel like our talk isn't quite finished, and I would like to complete it sometime," he reply, his usual coldness returning. Only a small portion of his earlier familiarity remained.

Micaiah beamed at him happily. "You're right, and I agree. I'd say we both need some closure."

* * *

**End Author's Note:** I hope that Soren doesn't seem too OOC, I haven't played PoR in awhile, and RD hardly gave anyone a personality.

If you see a typo of any kind, feel free to point it out. I am really tired right now, and I might have missed some.


End file.
